


Drowning in Fire

by beardyswrites



Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell
Genre: Alternate Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending, Don't Examine This Too Closely, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Idiots in Love, M/M, Magic, POV Third Person, POV Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Post-Humdrum (Simon Snow), Post-Watford (Simon Snow), Protective Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch, Reunions, Simon Snow's Wings and Tail, Spells & Enchantments, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2021-01-27 12:11:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21391951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beardyswrites/pseuds/beardyswrites
Summary: He couldn’t even hear his pulse. The world was utterly, frighteningly silent.“Please,” Baz begged. “Please, Simon. Don’t do this to me.”He had lost too much already. He couldn’t lose Simon. Not after everything.Baz shook him frantically. “Come on, you idiot!” he roared.But Simon did not wake.(a short story in which Baz is distraught, Simon connects with his past, and normality is somewhat restored.)
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Comments: 6
Kudos: 89





	Drowning in Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Really obsessed with Carry On at the moment, and this popped into my head one night and I just had to write it down! Inspired by Merlin, Harry Potter and Shadowhunters. Enjoy!

Thunder roared over his head, the grounds of Watford clouded and empty.

Baz was claustrophobic. He could feel his magic itching beneath his skin, recoiling from a being far more powerful than himself.

He shouldn’t be here. He had only followed Simon’s trail. He had gone missing, vanishing without a trace.

It had been his worst nightmare.

He had used every source available, had threatened and bribed to find out _where the fuck Snow had disappeared to_. Even Penny, for all her powers, couldn’t locate him.

And then, a magickal blip over their old school.

_Of course everything led back to Watford._

Baz had pounced, throwing himself into the car and hurtling towards Watford. Now, the ancient familiar buildings loomed over him as he stormed into the courtyard.

** _“The blood in my veins is made up of mistakes -”_ **

Baz heard the words, saw the shrouded figure, before he saw who they were directed at.

** _“Let’s forget who we are -”_ **

Simon cowered mere feet away, his wings curling protectively around him, trying to shield him. “No, no!” he cried, _begged_.

Horror washed through Baz. He didn’t have to guess why Simon had disappeared now.

The words were cold and final: **_“And dive into the dark.”_**

The spell hit, and Simon _screamed_.

Every cell in Baz’s body lurched to a halt.

Amidst the cries of agony, he could hear Simon’s words echoing in his mind; a memory: _“I’ve never heard of a magician taking someone else’s magic. Can you imagine? If there were a spell for that? We’d tear each other apart.”_

But somebody had created it. Somebody had found it.

Simon didn’t have magic.

Instead, the spell latched onto the only thing it could: Simon’s very soul.

“Simon!” Baz screamed, hurtling towards him.

It was too late. With a stuttered gasp, Simon keeled over in the dirt.

Baz didn’t care that he was flammable. His vision blazing red, he lunged forward, summoning his magic, torrents of flame pouring from his hands. He could feel his core temperature rocketing, incinerating him from the inside out. A snarl burst from his throat as he pushed his magic to its utter limit, throwing the weight of his powers into his attack.

With a piercing shriek, the figure crumbled to dust.

Baz immediately severed his magic, his chest heaving, sweat pouring down his face. He gasped, staggering sideways as a crushing wave of exhaustion slammed into him, his vision reeling.

And that’s when he saw him, his body crumpled on the ground.

_Nothing. Else. Mattered._

Baz stumbled forward, crashing down beside him. His self control shattering, he hauled Simon’s ashen form into his arms, clutching him to his chest. Limp; fragile. _Broken_.

He couldn’t even hear his pulse. The world was utterly, _frighteningly_ silent.

“Please,” Baz begged. “Please, Simon. Fuck, don’t do this to me, Snow. Come on.”

He had lost too much already. He _couldn’t_ lose Simon. Not after everything.

Baz shook him frantically. “Come on, you idiot!” he roared.

But Simon did not wake.

o-o-o-o-o

Simon opened his eyes.

He was surrounded by fog, a thick grey cloud hanging around him. It seemed to reach for him, call out to him, the tendrils of mist wrapping around him, curious, probing.

_“My rosebud boy ...”_

Simon spun around.

“Mrs Grimm-Pitch?” he called. He swallowed. “I did what you asked. We found Nicodemus months ago. We solved it.”

_“I am not Natasha.”_

A figure appeared out of the gloom; a woman, her face kind and gentle, shimmering.

Simon started, his mouth gaping. It was the same face, the same curls he saw in the mirror each morning.

“Mum?” he whispered, tears pricking his eyes.

She shimmered, her eyes soft, her expression pained. _“My rosebud boy,”_ she whispered brokenly. She reached out and cupped his cheek, the touch featherlight and cool. _“I never would have left you.”_

Simon suddenly understood. The voice he had heard that night of the Visiting, drifting on the wind, high-pitched and wailing.

Baz wasn’t the rosebud boy.

_He_ was.

Fingers brushed his wings tenderly, tracing along the edges.

Simon sniffled. “I can’t get rid of them,” he lamented. “I lost my magic.”

It was agony to say it aloud.

Gritting his teeth, Simon bawled his hands into fists to quell the tremors. “It doesn’t matter. I’m dead now, aren’t I?”

_“Hmm ... I would call it temporarily displaced.”_

Simon frowned. “I don’t understand.”

She shook her head. _“You _are_ magic,”_ she whispered. _“You can never lose what you are; what you always had. What you always _will_ be.”_

Simon stared at her.

She smiled sadly. _“Look inside yourself,”_ she told him, her voice a murmur in his ears. _“It never left you.”_ Her eyes glistened. _“Not like I had to.”_

“_Why_?”

The childish word tumbled from his lips before he could stop it. It was the only question he could think to ask.

There were silent tears on her cheeks. _“The magic was too strong,”_ she cried. _“I held you, and I loved you with every part of me, but I was spent.”_

Simon’s smile was watery. “It’s okay,” he choked out. “It - it hasn’t been all bad. I had Baz, and Penny. And Agatha. I haven’t been alone.”

The woman shifted her hand to clutch his. The silence stretched between them.

_“I haven’t much time,”_ she murmured. _“I am weak. Search within your soul,”_ she repeated desperately. _“And you will find it.”_

“Mum,” Simon begged as she began to drift backwards into the mist again.

_“My rosebud boy.”_

The fog began to lift. Simon had to raise a hand to shield his eyes against the growing light. “Mum!” he called again.

_“You can never lose what you are.”_

o-o-o-o-o

A sound split the air, uncomfortably loud in the piercing silence.

_A heartbeat._

Simon began to convulse; Baz dropped him out of sheer fright, staring at the glowing light beneath his eyelids, his jaw hanging open.

Simon’s chest heaved, a ragged gasp tearing from his throat, his body shuddering, twitching on the ground as his head started to toss.

Baz grabbed his wrist. “Snap out of it, Snow!” he yelled, terrified.

Simon’s eyes flew open, his irises shining like beacons, impossibly bright, as if he were gazing into the heart of the universe itself.

Finally, _finally_, he stilled, his expression alarmingly blank.

“Simon?” Baz called weakly.

And Simon _went off_.

o-o-o-o-o

Between one blink and the next he was standing, magic pouring off him in those flattening, _blackening_ waves.

Fuck, he looked glorious, Baz thought with his last remaining brain cell. Simon was silhouetted, a glow of golden energy erupting from every part of his body, his wings spread wide on either side.

_Crowley. Maybe this really will end in flames._

Staggering to his feet, Baz reached for him. “Simon!” he rasped.

Simon finally turned around. The glow lost some of its intensity. “Baz,” he whispered.

_He was losing himself to the magic._

Baz snatched his hand and held on for dear life, clamping his eyes shut at the sheer power in the air around him, the likes of which he hadn’t felt since their school days.

He thought back to the time Simon had let him take his strength.

_Take_. No, that was the wrong word.

Given. _Gifted_. Simon had let him use what he needed.

And so he did the same; he let his magic _go_.

Even if he knew it might kill him.

“It’s alright, love,” he whispered. “It’s okay, Simon.”

_You were the sun, and I was crashing into you._

He let Simon take and take, giving him his strength, giving him whatever he needed to pull himself back; back to Baz. It was as if his magic was tied to Simon’s; as if it had _always_ been.

_This will all end in flames._

It was like standing in a windstorm, a firestorm, magic pouring around Simon, pouring _out_ of him in torrents. Baz held his ground, but barely, gritting his teeth against the sheer, raw power, his legs shaking violently.

And then it stopped.

The world fell silent apart from Simon’s ragged breathing beside him. His eyes were tightly shut.

He staggered sideways; Baz was already there to catch him, his free hand clamping down on his arm, the other gripping Simon’s hand even tighter.

“You’re a fucking train wreck, aren’t you, Snow?” Baz bit out, the insult far weaker then intended.

Simon’s eyes shot open a second time. The glow of his irises had dulled, but his skin still shone faintly. “Baz, it’s - I can - it feels -”

Baz jerked his head. “_Words_, Simon.”

Simon swallowed thickly; Baz watched the movement of his throat hungrily, desperately.

“Give me a spell, Baz,” Simon finally garbled. “Give me a spell!”

Oh. _Oh_!

Baz clamped his hands over both of Simon’s, clutching frantically. His voice was barely louder than a whisper: **_“They’re playing my song,”_** he began.

Simon swallowed again. **_“The butterflies fly away!”_**

He pushed their hands apart to reveal a tiny butterfly in the palm of his hand, glowing blue. It flapped its pretty, delicate wings and took off into the air, both boys watching until it had disappeared.

“How?” Baz breathed.

“I don’t know. But I can _feel_ it, Baz.”

His face was shining, but it was nothing compared to his eyes, glowing with joy, with a fierceness ... with a _purpose_.

And then Simon crashed his mouth against Baz’s own.

Baz barely let himself savour it, jerking back as if he had been burned. “You were fucking dead, Simon!” he shouted. “What the _hell_ happened?”

He shook his head frantically. “I don’t know. I don’t know -”

“Crowley, you’re so stupid,” Baz snarled. “Don’t ever scare me like that again. I love you, you absolute _idiot_.”

Simon wrenched him towards him by the lapels of his jacket, and Baz finally let him. 

Baz pushed back, harder, _harder_. Simon smelled different, like how he used to, but a far more muted version. Smoke and brimstone and charcoal; his scent was everywhere, and Baz was drowning.

A thought occurred to him, and this time it was with great reluctance that he broke the kiss, the two of them panting heavily, their lips still tantalisingly close.

“Simon ... where did the magic _go_?”

o-o-o-o-o

The dead spots had disappeared.

They first heard it from Professor Bunce; the news had spread across the entire country within hours. Celebrations were rife across the magickal community.

Baz vaguely recalled their conversation, once upon a time.

_“What do holes want?”_

_“To be filled?”_

Just like with the Humdrum, Simon had been right after all.

Families began to drift back to their homes, the powers restored to their lands. Simon was hailed as a hero.

Things were almost normal again.

_Normal_, Baz laughed to himself.

High above the manor in Hampshire, Simon pulled Baz closer around the waist, nuzzling his face into Baz’s long hair, sighing contentedly.

Still perched on Simon’s toes as the leathery wings billowed around him, Baz smiled and nudged Simon’s mouth to his own.

_I kiss him. Because he’s Simon; because he’s happy; because he brought magic back to my home._

_Because I want to; because I can._

_Because I love him._

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading this!! Hope it was a little bit of light reading that didn’t require too much thinking, haha. (I guess this is a fanfiction of a fanfiction of a fanfiction?!)
> 
> So, yes, an idea that I couldn’t get out of my head. It started as a 300 word scribble from that first scene, and then rapidly evolved into this 1800-ish word thing within a couple of hours!!
> 
> I know that Carry on continually switched POV. I gave this a go in first person POV, but it wasn’t getting the depth across that I was trying to achieve (I’m just way more comfortable with third person, is all) and this was the result!
> 
> Also, omg, Baz is SO MUCH FUN to write! I absolutely loved writing the dialogue between him and Simon, the banter and the insults and just how much those two care about one another. Snowbaz is one of my favourite ships.
> 
> Feel free to leave kudos if you enjoyed this little fic! Tell me in the comments what you liked about it. It helps keep my writing soul inspired :D xx


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